


if the clock turned its head

by femaletodd



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4738928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femaletodd/pseuds/femaletodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between inhaling a fresh whiff though, he found his breath catching. A familiar scent was in the air tonight. Maybe it was just his imagination, his mind playing tricks on his senses. Maybe, it was just wishful thinking, but he swore he could smell a combination of leather, sweat and a hint of cologne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if the clock turned its head

Jason Todd woke up from yet another nightmare with a shuddering jolt. The room was dark and cold around him as he sat there sweating. His heart felt like it would surge out of his ribcage any moment and he pressed his hand to it, trying to soothe his rapid pulse, trying to tell himself that the nightmare was over.

That it was never going to happen again.

The sheets gathered around his hips dragged to the side by a movement and he glanced at the other occupant of his bed. It was a girl with short neon pink hair, shuffling her naked body further away from him, burrowing deeper into the sheets, unaware of Jason's alert state.

A good thing too. He didn't want her to wake up and see him this way. The concerned yet unhelpful questions that always came with seeing the state he was in just after waking up from that god-forsaken nightmare was just a small part of the annoyance. A simple one night stand became a frustrating practice at rejecting benevolent offers and advices on how to deal with his particular problem.

"I know a therapist who worked on my aunt's problems. It really seemed to work. I could talk to her for you, book you an appointment." one had insisted, eyes filled with pity, the worst emotion of them all.

Which was why Jason had planned to kick out girls and boys alike after sleeping with them but almost each time, he would fall asleep right after. Sex was better than a sleeping pill to him; it completely relaxed his muscles and then he couldn't be bothered about telling the source of warmth wrapped around him to leave so he could sleep alone in the dark and cold. All while feeling empty and afraid inside.

Only one time, he had found the resolve within him to untangle himself from the girl and tell her to leave. She had been fine with that, gathering her stuff, putting on her clothes and leaving with a great dignity. When the door had closed on her bitter departure though, the clock seemed to tick too loud and every part of his body stood at attention, tense and ready for a fight he didn't know anything about.

He had spent the rest of that night chain-smoking while sitting on the ledge of his window. He had looked out at the city of Gotham as he inhaled the nicotine and exhaled it out into the fresh air.

Between inhaling a fresh whiff though, he found his breath catching. A familiar scent was in the air tonight. Maybe it was just his imagination, his mind playing tricks on his senses. Maybe, it was just wishful thinking, but he swore he could smell a combination of leather, sweat and a hint of cologne.

It couldn’t be.

It wasn’t, not really.

He knew better, but all the more, the longing struck him well and right in the chest. 

Perhaps it struck a little louder and harder because of the distant sounds of ambulances blaring out their urgent alarms or the brief glimpse of a GCPD car chasing a fugitive in a blue truck near his apartment. Whatever it was, the need to see Bruce ripped at him every single second that he wavered on that window, thinking of all the reasons why he shouldn't.

There were many reasons.

Many.

 

 

He left his apartment and ambled aimlessly through the streets. His hands inside his jacket’s pocket, his eyes on the pavement in front of him and his thoughts a mile away. Until he heard the sounds of someone screaming for help nearby.

Then, he smiled.

He dealt his frustration and repressed tension out on the poor suckers who had crowded a young helpless boy in an alley trying to mug him. Then as they ran away, bloody and bruised and cursing him to hell and back, he slid down near a trash can. It seemed a better match for his state of mind than his own chilly apartment, with its four walls like a suffocating chamber. And the ticking clock sounded like a ticking bomb, a phantom echo that bled into reality with every _tic_ of the clock's hand. The triumphant and amused laughter of Death’s maddest acolyte followed him, snatched him from his present and took him back.

Back to hell again.

He noticed the young boy he rescued was still looking at him with curious eyes, reminding him of Tim Drake for some reason. Jason stared back with a sullen look, as if to say 'what are you looking at, kid?'

When the boy saw that Jason wasn't about to move any time soon and had no interest in talking, he nodded silently in thanks before dashing off to who knows where.

Jason rested there for a long time, no sense of time, no sense of location, no sense of sound. His mind spun back to the past, the moment just before Talia found him. When he was catatonic, murmuring whispers of a man who was so close yet so far out of reach. A man he needed and yearned for every single day when the cold breeze would greet his ragged body as he slept with his knees tucked close to his chest and his arms around himself on these very same alleys.

He shivered, feeling that same cold seeping into his skin as if bleeding through the cracks of time itself, leeching away the leftover warmth that he had cooped up inside from sleeping with faceless, nameless people. Even after all this time, he was still so susceptible to the cold.

The laughter echoed in his mind. It _hurt_ to think that he hadn't changed from that scared little boy even now. He gritted his teeth and it _hurt_.

He cursed and took out his cigarette. He held it in his trembling hand, rummaging through his pocket for a lighter with his other as he rolled the stick restlessly around his finger.

That's when he felt a presence hovering over him.

He looked up and crushed the stick between his index finger and thumb in surprise. The towering figure of the Dark Knight stood on the balcony of the building opposite to where he sat.

Jason found his heart beating faster and yet all his tensed-up muscles were relaxing. He wanted to scoff at himself, wanted to shake his head at the irony of it except he was so relieved.

‘What were the odds of this happening?’ Jason wondered to himself. The sarcastic part of his brain that would have none of his nonsense, supplied: ‘You knew what the odds were, Jason. That’s why you’re here.”

"How the hell did you find me?" he asked aloud, throwing away the wasted stick.

"I heard about you helped a boy on dispatch." Batman replied, voice all gruff and rumbly. Not soothing like Bruce's regular low and calm voice. The one he used when Jason was distressed or angry at him or did something wrong and was feeling guilty. Every single time, Bruce would come into his room and talk it all through with him and suddenly, all the bad thoughts would just vanish.

Joker’s laugh was still echoing in his skull.

"He said you beat the thugs bloody, as if you were taking your frustrations out on them. I figured there weren't a lot of rescuers in this side of Gotham that had the same MO as you."

"In this side?" Jason asked and came to the realization. "So you knew I lived around here," Batman didn't answer. Jason laughed mirthlessly. "Of course, how can anyone hide from you in your own godforsaken city?"

"If you didn't want me to find you--"

"I would do a better job of hiding myself. I know." Jason raked a hand through the top of his head, feeling exhausted. At least, Joker was gone from his mind.

"You're not a novice at this, Jason." Batman's voice became lower, less growly when he called his name, but that was not the only sign that the well-adjusted mask of righteous fighter-of-evil, fear-me-i'm-your-worst-nightmare was slowly coming off.

Jason could sense it from the next words out of that cold, thin and logical mouth: "You're better than most. Even me, at times, as you’ve proved to me over and over again."

Jason grimaced. "Is this going somewhere?" He demanded, irate.

They locked eyes and Bruce's mouth parted slowly as if hesitating.

"You wanted to see me." He stated finally.

Jason sighed heavily, closing his eyes. He opened them to strike a furious glare.

"If I really wanted to see you," he spat out. "I would show at your doorsteps and I would punch your face in. Don't forget, Bruce, I know where you live."

He swore he saw a smile crossing Bruce's lips but it must have been a hallucination. Batman never smiled. Not as far as he'd known.

"If I waited for you to someday come to my door out of your own free will, I'd be old and senile by then."

Jason snorted. "That's funny. That you think you're not old now."

Bruce turned his head slightly and suddenly, Jason had a realization. He may not have exactly seen Batman smile, but he remembered small glimpses in his peripheral vision of curves on lips hidden in the shadows. Easily dismissable in his childhood as a play of light; an illusion. But he was older now. And that was a smile he just saw.

What a day this was; Batman trying to hide a smile in the shadow of the night. The same night that came with so many responsibilities and burdens and guilt. The night that never stopped inviting to the dark part of everyone’s nature. Even Bruce. Especially Bruce.

Jason felt light and exhilarated on the inside yet the glare on his face didn't fade.

"Well, I have to wonder then, what did you want with this old man tonight." Apparently, this was a day for odd behaviors because Bruce using his playful, flippant tone in his Batman costume just looked plain weird to him. And this time, Jason found himself the one suppressing a smile. Happiness came easy to him when it was Bruce but he always had to remember, so did grief and anger and... hatred.

"Nothing," he said, sobering up. He stood up, dusting his jeans off.

"Jason," Bruce called in a voice that pulled at him. Pulled like he was just a puppet on strings. Just a damn kid who was only there to follow his every order. God, the things he was reminded of tonight. They just kept piling up. He may never have a peaceful night again if this is what he had to deal with all the time.

"Aren't you supposed to be going around ruining malevolent plans of Gotham's criminally insane?" He asked abruptly, keeping his eyes moving everywhere but at him. "And then capturing them, keeping them locked up so they can escape fucking again."

He could feel Bruce wincing under his cowl. That subject was the sore point of their whole relationship and Jason admitted that it was getting a tad bit tedious to talk about. Bruce remained as unwavering about his opinion as Jason remained stubbornly angry. "It's quiet today," before Jason could open his mouth to berate him for changing the topic, he added "and the only moderately big case Tim's taking care of."

Jason rolled his eyes. "So you didn't come to see me 'cause you thought I wanted to see you. You came 'cause you were free."

Batman jumped down from the balcony. It was abrupt but Jason didn't blink. He was used to quick movement.

"Do you always have to--" Bruce cut himself off, lips pursuing and face hastily averting.

Jason made an amused sound in his throat. "Do I always have to what?" Bruce just looked at him. It was weird and a bit entertaining to see that look in his face; the one that plainly showed that Bruce had no fucking idea how to deal with him. That he was so lost in conflicting emotions that he just wanted to punch a wall. Or push someone against a wall.

Jason let a crooked smile grace his lips and let his eyes flash with dark intent. "I know. I always do have to." He looked at Bruce's lips intently, leering a bit.

He saw Bruce swallow though it was barely noticeable in the dark. Jason peered up at him through his lashes and leaned in. He couldn't help the pull anymore. They were too close. Bruce's breath was hot on his mouth. And beneath that hard, unforgiving mask was the warmth he sought. Beneath the Bat-suit was Bruce. His Bruce.

He leaned in closer, tilted his neck, lifting his eyes with a look that suggested something he always tried to keep under wraps when around Bruce but never could resist showing. Never could resist the way he was drawn in. His lips lingered close to Bruce’s, swaying on the spot, breathing an invitation into his lungs and out his nose. The man behind the cowl could have had many expressions underneath but nothing showed so it took him completely by surprise when he was swept into a crushing embrace. He suffered a kiss so bruising he lost all sense of feeling in his lips.

He stood there frozen, his hands hovering over Batman’s shoulder as Bruce kissed the heck out of him. It took him a few minutes to recover but then he was immediately melting into the kiss no matter how painful and unexpected it had come.

He held onto Bruce's Kevlar-covered shoulder with nails digging in with all their strength. Bruce grunted into his mouth at the sensation and shoved him against the wall, devouring his open mouth with feeling and urgency. It was their first kiss but it felt like the last. As Bruce intended it.

The next minute, Bruce was shoving away and turning to leave.

Jason rubbed at his lips, watching his back with hatred in his eyes. "Now, I get it. Why you do this whole Batman persona thing so well." He claimed, his voice all hoarse and rough around the edges. Batman paused, all tight and controlled. "You can turn it on and off at the drop of the hat. You're heartless. No wonder all women in your life-- mmph!"

Bruce interrupted his rant with another kiss, slamming him back into that accursed wall, licking into his mouth, sucking on his tongue, and clawing deep gouges around his arms.

When they separated, Jason gave a humorous wheeze. "Do you think I'm a masochist or something, Bruce?"

"I don't think," whispered Bruce in a snarl. "I know."

Jason's breath stuttered, pleasure practically humming throughout his body.

"Huh," he gasped out.

Bruce pulled away and Jason couldn't find the will to speak again. To protest or change his mind. He already knew what Bruce was thinking.

"I have to go," Bruce said.

_That._

"Yeah," Jason said on a deep inhale, looking away. _  
_

"I..."

"Shut up," He snapped, not looking Bruce's way. He couldn't. "Shut up and go."

"I'll come back."

Jason looked at the sky and shook his head. "Don't."

"Jay--"

"Fucking don't!" screamed Jason vehemently and glared at the ground.

Bruce stared at him with a deep frown before his whole demeanor softened. "What's happened?"  He asked, concern promptly appearing in his voice. "Jason, tell me, what happened?"

 _Introspective bastard_ , Jason thought.

"Nothing,"

"Don't lie to me," Bruce said, his low voice rumbling across the small space between them. "The last time that you lied to me-- the last time--"

Jason felt his sorrow as much as he saw it in the exposed mouth that was all twisted up in a grotesque frown, in the burrows of his cowl, in the fists clenching at his side. Batman looked a damned sad sight, remembering all the things that he did and didn’t do. All the things that resulted in the Jason as he was now; broken and damaged.

"Batman isn't supposed to--" Jason slipped out and stopped himself. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, we're in public, can you not-" he cut off, lump stretching his throat. He couldn't say he cared about Batman's image remaining as it was when he had tried so hard to tear it up at many turns. 

Apparently, Bruce deduced what he didn't say and had the look of someone who was about to blow a fuse. He stilled and took a breath in. His silence was more deafening than if he had spoken in that rough, angry voice.

"Now, you care?" He asked softly.

"I don't care," he denied emphatically. "I just need you to shut up about that incident." When he felt Bruce's eyes studying him analytically like a damn case, he let out a huff. The last thing he needed was for Bruce to go all laser-eyed and focused on his damn state of mind. "I'm trying to keep it out of my head tonight, okay?"

"Oh," yeah, oh. He could sense Bruce coming to the realization and the simple sympathy practically poured from his every breath. "You can't sleep."

Jason gave a short laugh, as sharp as the batarang that cut across Jason's hand when he had demanded that Bruce choose between him or the Joker. As sharp as Joker's piercing laughs that day knowing he had the sweetest victory against Batman notched under his belt.

Again.

When his laughter died down, there was an uncomfortable silence in-between because when it came to confrontations and fights, Bruce was a champ but when it came to comforting someone, Bruce was a wimp.

Jason leaned against the wall and bent his knee as he looked at Batman, all calm and stiff. For the fun of it and to get Bruce out of his stump, Jason decided to be honest. "I sleep very well every other day of the week, actually, as long as there's somebody to warm my sheets. Their breathing as they sleep is loud enough to mask the sound of the clock in my apartment." He was making it more concise and more irrelevant than it actually was, but that was his nature. He looked to see that he had Bruce's undivided attention. "It's calming. And..." He paused. "After sex, my muscles relax so I don't have to keep thinking. I just fall asleep right after."

"That's... good, I guess." Bruce said awkwardly and stared at him in a clinical way, as if trying to dissect the truth from the lie. "So what was the problem?" 

Jason gave a small, ironic smile, shrugging. "I kicked her out.” he tapped at his knee in a sporadic rhythm. “And now, I can't sleep."

Bruce appeared puzzled at this and Jason tilted his head, quirking his brow to fake nonchalance. Bruce's face changed though once he noted something on Jason's and the young man could tell there was a thought or a plan being brewed under that brilliant head of his. He could tell and he could only watch.

Hope, more like.

"Your room in the manor doesn't have a clock." Bruce said, sounding a bit strange. Honestly, Jason didn't really care about the clock at his apartment. He could have replaced it with a digital clock ages ago if he had liked, but he had kept it. He never really knew the reason why. Seeing Bruce offer a perfect excuse for coming back to the manor though made him rethink that reason.

"And it’s safe. Better than an alley where anyone could come and slash your throat."

"I'm not afraid of some small time thugs. I can handle them in my sleep." but even as Jason gave a reason against, his heart thumped in anticipation.

"I know you can but-" insisted Bruce. "It's warm. It's-- it's safe."

Jason glanced at the older man and smiled mischievously."You are adorable when you're desperate." When Bruce didn't say anything to that and waited with an expectant air about him, Jason stood up straight with a sigh.

He pointed his index finger up as he stared into Batman's lenses.

"One day," he said and caught a glimpse of the older man smiling slightly.

"Right,"

Jason gave him a stern look.

"One day," he repeated.

The smile faded and Jason felt his heart darken at the idea that he could take away that hint of a smile.

"One day," Bruce agreed, sounding sober. He turned around and faced the mouth of the alley. "The Bat-Mobile's this way."

Jason watched his back for a second and called Bruce before he could reach the end of the alley.

"Wait,"

Batman stopped and turned his head toward him slightly. Jason walked toward him and when he was by Batman's side-- the man in question staring question-marks at him-- he leaned in and quickly stole a kiss from that soft, unguarded mouth. When he had his fair share of a good taste, he went on to walk ahead of Batman.

"Come on, Boss," He called in a sing-song, cheery voice. "I thought you were leading the way."

 

 


End file.
